


Let go

by mssdare



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Watersports, dub-con (just a tiny bit), inebriation, pissing, slight orgasm denial, some very slight D/S maybe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin wants Arthur’s cock and hands and the warm weight of him, but he has to pee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ememmyem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ememmyem/gifts).



> This little story was written for the [Tavern Tales Fest at Livejournal](http://tavern-tales.livejournal.com/). If you haven't seen it yet--go at once! So many gorgeous stories! 
> 
> Pay attention to warnings please: watersports! (gentle, but watersports! nonetheless), dub-con (just a tiny bit), inebriation, orgasm denial, and IDK – some very slight D/S maybe?
> 
> Thank you my perfect beta Sillygoose! 
> 
> This is for Ememmyem with all the thanks for constant inspiration and encouragement and sharing kinky good stuff ;) <3

“Ouch.” Merlin grunts and then giggles as he stumbles through the door, pushed inside by Arthur’s heavy weight. Arthur’s leaning on Merlin for support, but Merlin isn’t exactly steady on his feet either.

It's funny. The keyhole was funny, too, especially when it was moving away from Merlin's fingers while he was trying to open the bloody door. And Arthur was funny, but maybe more hot than funny. Definitely more hot, when his strong fingers gripped Merlin's palm to extract the key. Pressing too hard actually, but Merlin loves that definite grip, and Arthur's wet breath on his skin, and Arthur's strong arms around Merlin's chest, hugging him from behind to keep from falling. Always holding Merlin. Always there.

Merlin’s breath catches a bit at the thought, and he has to inhale sharply, deeply enough to unclench the sudden tightness in his chest that's always there when he thinks of Arthur like this.

Merlin closes his eyes as his face hits the pillow. He must have crawled into bed somehow, earlier. The world is hazy and dark blue around him, bathed in the shadows of the late hour. And Arthur's pulling off Merlin's shoes and jeans, and—Jesus, but this is just… _Why does he have to be so bloody perfect and caring?_ And what did Merlin ever do to deserve him?

Arthur's arms sneak around Merlin's body, and Merlin's being cupped, and gathered, and pulled tight, and then dry humped a little, even though they both know nothing’s going to come of it.

Merlin mumbles "yes” and “I want it" and pushes back, but dreams are already mixing with reality and he sees a white country house and a dirt road with bits of grass leading away from it, and sunrays glistening on the windows.

He wakes for a moment when Arthur squeezes him again, and then drifts back to sleep with Arthur's too-warm body hugging him like a safe blanket.

***

He wakes up to a heavy, blunt pressure on his bladder. It feels so full he’s on the verge of pain. It’s as if he’s about to burst any second now. He’s also hot and uncomfortable, suffocating under Arthur’s sleeping body. Arthur's breathing heavily, and Merlin thinks he senses a streak of warm drool on his shoulder. It makes him smile.

He must not have sobered up yet, because everything is fuzzy around the edges. The room is still mostly dark, only shadows of furniture visible, and the heater is blasting, making the air in their little flat insufferable. Merlin tries to swallow against the dryness in his throat. His woozy mind provides images of sweet, ice-cold orange juice, or Coke maybe, or even water. Actually water would be just fine, and that brings him back to the issue, which is that his belly is being squeezed and plastered to the mattress, and it’s so full from all the beer they drank last night he’s going to explode.

He wriggles and tries to extract himself from under Arthur, which only makes the pressure worse. Arthur just won't let go. The more Merlin tries to get free, the more Arthur tightens his grip.

“Arthur.” Merlin's voice is scratchy. It cuts through the silence of the room in an abrupt way that makes Merlin wince. He clears his throat and tries again. “Arthur. Move. Ugh.” He tries to wriggle again. “Arthur. I have to go.”

“What?” Arthur finally grunts behind him.

“Have to go take a piss. Lemme go.” Merlin starts to extract himself yet again, but Arthur, surprisingly, doesn’t move an inch. He must have fallen back asleep. Merlin kicks his legs. “Arthur.”

And then he hears a very sober and clear, “Wait. Let’s.” And he feels the unmistakable pressure of Arthur’s hard cock on his arse. He wants to argue, but the words somehow catch in his throat. As usual, as always, because Arthur _wants_ him, and Merlin won’t ever get enough of this, even though he doesn’t understand why, or how. Why him, and how is it possible that golden, perfect Arthur wants him? But he miraculously does, and that makes Merlin’s cock begin to fill.

He’s still hazy, but more awake now. “Just give me a moment,” he says. “I’ll be back in a—“

“Merlin, wait.” Arthur closes his hand around Merlin’s wrist, pinning him down harder. “You’ll feel it more this way.” And yes—Merlin wants Arthur’s cock and hands and the warm weight of him, but he has to pee.

“No, Arthur, I really _have_ to go,” Merlin says, even though he’s stopped trying to get out of Arthur’s arms. He feels hot and his cock stirs, painfully, gradually filling up. Behind him Arthur shuffles, tugging on their boxer briefs until they’re skin to skin, and Arthur’s wet, sticky cock is nudging at Merlin’s arse. They’re both sweaty, their skin too warm, so when Arthur moves, his cock slides easily in Merlin’s cleft.

“Want,” Arthur murmurs and licks Merlin’s neck, making Merlin shiver. He then guides their joined hands under Merlin’s body and urges Merlin to grab his own dick, swollen and throbbing now. He makes Merlin tug on it once, then again, and speeds up until Merlin’s cock is so hard, so stupidly hard, he has to come. Even though he’s also so full and he still needs to go. _Oh, God, he needs to._

Arthur’s humping him steadily, each and every press of his hips a hard push on Merlin’s stomach, pressing him to the mattress, making his insides twist with pain when he resists.

Relief. Merlin dreams of relief. But then there’s Arthur’s hand around his own stopping the movement on his cock, then allowing him to go up and down a few strokes, only to stop again.

Merlin gasps, his mouth open, breath hot and dry against the pillow. He closes his eyes. He’s floating, swimming in deep waters, the current fast and cruel. He’d beg now, if he had the words. For the sweet pain to end. For it to last. For release. For relief.

Arthur speeds up—both the sweet slide of his cock on Merlin’s arse as well as the pace of their wrists. He hoists Merlin up a bit to move more easily and then bites Merlin’s neck where the skin is humid and smooth. “You are so hot. So hot. Do you feel it?”

Merlin is nothing but _feeling_ right now, stinging hot painful sweet feeling, so he says “yes.” Because of all the delicious, torturous things he’s feeling, hot is certainly one of them. He feels Arthur all around him and he wishes he could feel him inside him now, even though this would make him burst for sure. But he thinks about it: how Arthur would press inside of him, how Arthur’s every thrust would hit him hard, how it’d make him spill every drop of liquid he has in his body. How glorious that would feel.

He bites his lip and cries out into the pillow, long and achy, while his cock pulses and coats their joined wrists with seed.

Arthur stops the humping, strokes Merlin’s back, and waits for him to settle. There’s ringing in Merlin’s ears, and slowly the shadows around him lighten. He thinks he hears, “My love,” but he’s never sure in these moments what is real and what is his mind playing tricks on his senses.

As his breath evens up, the strong pressure on his bladder returns and he really has to go now. He really needs to go. He needs to go _now._ And Arthur must know this, because he’s whispering right into Merlin’s ear, “Let go. Let go. Let go, Merlin. Please,” as he starts sliding his cock fast along Merlin’s cleft yet again. And they’ve never talked about anything like this before; this is the first time Merlin has even thought about it, but he can’t deny he wants it now. Arthur’s breath is so hot on Merlin’s skin, and he’s shaking, with one arm braced tight on the bed next to Merlin, trembling, voice urging in strained puffs of breath, “Just do it.”

“It’ll be messy,” Merlin says in weak protest, but somehow it sounds like pleading.

Arthur kisses Merlin’s skin. “Mmm. You’ll magic it away.” He lies down on Merlin with his full body weight and sneaks his hand back into the sticky mess that’s there on the mattress. Then he splays his palm flat, pressing hard against Merlin’s belly. He pushes and at the same time he grinds his hips down.

And Merlin can’t stop it now. God help him, but the pressure is too much. It hurts, and he can’t… he just can’t hold it anymore.

“Let go, baby.” Arthur says again, sweet and broken, and that does it.

It’s hard to relax enough though. Merlin whines and squirms. His legs hurt. His buttocks tighten. And then it happens—the tiny trickle spills out of his cock, painfully at first, because everything is so fucking tight, but it’s happening, and soon it will be better. He seeks the relief that he knows awaits him.

Behind him Arthur stills and emits a shaky breath, his fingers twitching and tightening on Merlin’s skin, digging even harder.

“Oh God, Merlin, you…” He frigs his cock on the cleft of Merlin’s arse while Merlin’s still going, centered in the sea of warmth.

It is bliss. Somewhere in the middle of it all Merlin feels Arthur stiffen, and warm streaks of come hit his back. He’s almost done. He’s wet all over, and warm, and peaceful, and all pain has fled. It’s like floating weightlessly in air with boneless limbs. Tears also spill, because this is time-stopping mercy, and this is Arthur gathering him close and burying his face in Merlin’s neck, hot and wet too.

Merlin’s eyes are heavy and he’s happy, wrapped up in Arthur again, engulfed in his warmth and care. He whispers the spell while Arthur strokes his damp hair, smoothing it back from Merlin’s forehead and not stopping the gentle caress until Merlin falls asleep. 


End file.
